No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

rust-eaten hinge, and it seemed to sit crookedly, so she groped
for the edges, gripping with numb fingertips—
Lars laughed. “What’re you doing up there?”
A twelve-inch icicle dropped from the roof and banged off
the table beside her. She winced, gritting her teeth, still
pulling, clawing her fingernails into the window’s rubber seam
—
“Hey, girlie—”
Pull … pull …
Another icicle dropped and exploded, showering her with
ice flecks. Like glass shards on her cheeks.
“Girlie, I’m comin’ for ya—”
Two more icicles dropped to her right and left, exploding
like twin gunshots in her eardrums, and the picnic table
wobbled underneath her as Rodent Face climbed up toward
her, clambering on elbows and knees like a racing, scuttling
animal, but she was only focused on that hinged window. On
that warm glow behind the glass, so teasingly close. On her
clamped fingertips, wrenching the thing open—
Pull …
Pullpullpull—
The mechanism broke. The window came free.
She let it fall, and it shattered off an icy picnic table. Lars
raised a hand to shield his face from the shards — Oh, Jesus
Christ, he’s right behind me — and Darby was out of time. She
lunged inside, face-first, performing a desperate swan dive
through the tiny opening—
Icy fingers clasped around her ankle. “Gotcha—”
She kicked free.